


can i dream for a few months more?

by autonomousAvox



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Both are kinda out of character, Highschool AU, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mentions of Bugs, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:01:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27659875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autonomousAvox/pseuds/autonomousAvox
Summary: ambrose knew something was wrong with his homelife to begin with, but he refused to acknowledge it even when it found him on his knees in his father's study, or breaking down when his boyfriend kissed him.
Relationships: Dad Egbert/Dave's Bro | Beta Dirk Strider
Kudos: 5





	can i dream for a few months more?

**Author's Note:**

> yo! please forgive me if this is a little whack on the formatting,
> 
> also please note that both of them are pretty ooc in this, sorry to both bro and dad for doin y'all dirty like this
> 
> the purpose of this was not to ship the two characters but it is implied throughout that there is something between the two.

**"would you care to tell me what happened, mr.strider?"**

there isn't much to say. it all went by so fast.

when you met you were both kids. he would always bother you, showing you whatever new things he'd found. leaves, bugs, candy, it all formed a pile on your desk.

he followed you for so long, his presence blended into the crowd. he didn't look like anything special.

at least, that was until freshman year. the time flew by so fast, years punctuated only by broken ribs, bruises and tests. 

his energy stood out in the crowd. that stupid fedora perched on his head seemed to never go anywhere. well-liked by the crowd, by everyone.

typical.

that name- james, james egbert. it took you years to pin down. a rusted pin with red twine tied to it, a thread that leads off somewhere. off into the darkness you could only wish you'd seen.

it was when he first asked you about the bruises. about why you didn't show up for weeks on end.

you lied.

"oh c'mon, y'know i got better things to do than be in this hell hole. got bitches t' do, more interestin' things"

why you lied, you can't remember anymore. maybe it was fear, but why would that be the case?

you're not a pussy. you can handle a beatdown.

or at least, you thought you could.

he was insistent. wanted to know everything you were doing.

the words slipped past you, gone as fast as they came. your mind wandered, whispering quiet words in the back of your mind.

_he'd look better dead_ , the words bounced around in your mind, distracting you ever the further.

"are you even listening to me?" that stern tone would have made you wince; if you weren't ambrose strider, epitome of cool.

when did he change clothes? you were just in the lunchroom, where even are you now?

"ambrose."

"mm? couldnt hear you over how much of a fucking nerd you are."

you almost wish you could take back your words. 

he didn't like something you did. or, at least, you assume so from how he elbowed your gut before grumbling and walking off.

you were so lost in your head.

then again, you always are.

what was he even talking about? not like it mattered to you. it was probably just the next idiotic game he found. at least that's what you assumed.

whatever it was, he was pissed at you for ignoring him.

maybe that was your own fault.

but you couldn't help the fact you check out the second somebody talks to you.

maybe that makes you a terrible person.

how you got to the bathrooms, leaning against the wall of one of the stalls is a mystery, when it happened you don't know.

there's bruises scattered on your body. left like angels kisses on soft skin.

you dig your fingers into one of the purple spots of flesh, pressing your nails in as the pain splits through your arm.

you have to bite back a sob.

but you don't pull your hand back, just digging your fingers into the bruised flesh.

_you deserve this. you're sick._

your mind is slipping away from you again. when did the tears rolling down your cheeks start? 

why is your shirt on the floor? when did it get there?

your mind is running a mile a minute as you shake, breaths quick as you feel like you can't get enough air in your lungs. distantly you feel your knees giving out as you collapse to the cold tile floor.

icy tiles bite at your hot skin, making you wince as you cover your face with your hands. tears smear on your face and slip between your fingers.

how long you stayed there you can't remember, but the chill of the tiles brought you slowly back to your senses.

lulled you back to a pleasant numbness. no longer was your mind screaming. all that was left was a dull throbbing in the back of your head.

you're left to pick up all the little fragments. every little shard of the façade you lost all too easily.

you throw your shirt back on, slipping the backpack on and staring blankly at your arms.

blood. there's blood.

dripping down your arm. those beautiful drops of crimson rolling along your pale skin, painting your arm in beautiful tones of scarlet.

all too soon, you have to wash it all away.

the stinging is nothing with the dull throbbing in your skull.

looking at the mirror, you aren't in the school bathroom anymore.

you're at home. in your father's study. it reeks of weed, but the smell is welcome to your shaking soul.

the smell of home, sickening and bitter, tinged with rot. but it's all you've ever known.

you can't remember a time when it didn't smell like this.

the smell of metal is overwhelming in your nose. but there's nothing you can do. your legs refuse to move from where you kneel, staring into the mirror hung crookedly on the wall.

was it always cracked? or was that from when you were thrown into it.

crimson stains the edges of the cracked mirror. taunting.

you'll have to clean up this mess.

you're thankful he's gone, even if it's only for a moment. you willed your body to move, legs shaking as you stand up.

cool air batters your shaking frame. you feel disgusting. 

you wish you could scrub your skin off. the filthy feeling never seems to leave.

your breath catches in your throat when you hear the door creaking open.

run.

you have to run.

but your feet feel like they weigh ten pounds and you're stuck.

frozen in place as that disgusting man walks up to you.

your mind is slipping away from you again. hiding and detached from your body.

he's warm behind you...

your vision is blurring at the edges. you can only imagine you're probably shaking.

_disgusting. weak._

he's talking to you, but you cant hear a thing. something hot is running down your thigh.

you can't be bothered to care.

he's probably just telling you to fuck off, that he doesn't need you there anymore.

you run out of the room as fast as you can, not stopping until you're pressing all your weight against the bathroom door.

breath comes in short, shaking gasps as you crumple to the floor.

cold tile pressed to your body, biting at you. there's a cockroach crawling on the floor by your face.

your body feels like it's covered in little, wriggling maggots. eating away at your flesh and leaving you bare.

every breath hurts.

you have to close your eyes. your body won't let you keep running away anymore.

the tile is cold, but the light stinging is welcome on your scorching hot skin.

slipping off into sleep as you just can't stay awake anymore, exhausted.

you dream of freedom, something you only know as a lie.

the next time you open your eyes is to the feeling of lips on your neck.

hot breath on your skin. hands on your body.

you panic.

you cant help it when you shove whoever the poor fuck is and abscond as fast as you can. 

you're at the school again.

running through the empty halls.

_who was that. why were they that close to you?_

the realization is sudden, and your stomach is twisted up in tight knots.

_that was james_.

you knew that stupid fucking fedora anywhere. ratty black locks of hair and pianist fingers.

the rhythmic tapping of your feet on the tile floor falters and you collapse.

somebody is sobbing.

moments pass slowly before it hits you. you're the one crying. there's tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you're breaking. 

it's so loud. crowded, suffocating.

but youre frozen. there's a hand on your shoulder. warm, feeling aged against your skin.

_please dont dont dont, not here, no.._ your mind is pleading for you to run. you can't.

your legs won't move anymore and you feel glued to the floor. a rat in a trap just waiting for the bar to snap down and snap your fragile neck.

"strider? would you care to tell me what just happened?"

ripped from your thoughts.

"it's nothin' just decided to drop class."

_why won't the hand leave. stop touching me._

"mr. strider, you look like you're on the verge of tears."

_get your hands off me..._

"i'm fine." your voice is breaking in such a pathetic way.

"mr. stri-"

you're running again. broken from the bonds that kept you knelt on the ground. air stings your lungs, it hurts so bad but you can't stop.

legs ache and burn as you run. you just keep on running. you have to.

everything is just a hazy blur, buildings pass by you as foggy pillars of concrete and glass.

_i just want to go home.._

where are you even going to go now?

_you don't have a home_

when the world finally stops moving, you're in a park. chest heaving and body shaking. 

your head is reeling, you don't think you can stand anymore as you collapse onto one of the benches and press your knees into your chest.

"where am i supposed to go.. wh.. what am i going to do now.. i.. i can't go back.."

salty tears are flowing freely down your cheeks now, you can't stop them anymore.

_what am i supposed to do now…_

memories are flooding back to you now as you clutch your legs to your chest and shake, sobbing in a park.

hands on your neck, kisses pressed down your back, pain. _pain._

_every time that disgusting man violated you._

_but is he really the sick one when your body so clearly enjoyed it._

_its sick._

_why did it feel good…_

_why didn't you fight back._

_why didn't you stop him._

_it should have_ _hurt_

_then maybe.. just maybe, you would be able to forgive yourself._

_forgive yourself for letting this happen to you._

_for making them do this to you._

_but the real world doesn't give happy endings, does it?_

_not to you, not to her, not to him, them, anyone._

_you're flawed._

_you're no man, hardly even human._

**Author's Note:**

> istg this is a one-shot turned multi-chapter because i couldn't just let it end like that. chapter two is in the works though it may not get completed.


End file.
